


“You crawled in my window at 4 am to ask me if I want ice cream?”

by WhisperingMagpie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ice Cream Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingMagpie/pseuds/WhisperingMagpie
Summary: Nat's here on a job. But she can't tell him that.For my friend Sybil. Happy Winter Solstice : D





	“You crawled in my window at 4 am to ask me if I want ice cream?”

Bruce awoke to a crash down the hall. Something had fallen to the floor, or a window breaking, he wasn't sure. Maybe both. He scrabbled for the lamp beside his bed, but decided against turning it on. Instead, he slid out from under the blankets, picking up the porcelain lamp with both hands and crept slowly towards his bedroom door.

It was possible there had just been a window open, and something had been blown over by a strong breeze, but he had to be sure.

As he padded down the hall on bare feet, he heard some faint mumbling and cursing, and the sound of whatever had broken being pushed across the floor. The door to the computer room then began to creak open, and Bruce quickly lifted the lamp over his head, and was met by a woman in sleek leather, with a gun.

Bruce nearly dropped the lamp in surprise, as Natasha stepped into the lit hallway. “Romanoff? What are you doing here?!”

Natasha froze, wide-eyed, and slowly lowered her gun. She gave him a sheepish smile, seemingly unsure how to answer. Her contact had only told her that the target was a middle-aged guy with a lot of scientific equipment in the basement. Much easier to steal from than the infamous Tony Stark, and still worth some cash.

They hadn't told her that her target was Bruce Banner, a fellow Avenger. How was she to explain she'd broken in to steal his stuff?

Natasha frowned and pursed her lips, a few different emotions flitting across her face in seconds.

“Well...you see...” Then she gave him a mischievous smile. “Would you like to go out for ice cream?”

Bruce stared at her in disbelief, head tilting in frustrated confusion. He looked down at his pajamas, and then squinted at his watch. “You crawled in my window at 4 am to ask me if I want ice cream?”

“I'll pay for the broken window?” Natasha offered hopefully.

Bruce set the lamp down and brushed past her into the room, flicking on the light to see shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. He was tired, and he didn't have time for this. He turned back to Natasha, hissing in pain as he stepped on a piece of glass in the doorway he hadn't noticed. Lifting his foot to look at the blood pooling out around a cut on his heel, he grimaced as a droplet fell to the floor. He gingerly set his foot down and started limping back to his room, wincing at the piece of glass wedged deep.

Natasha rushed to his side and slipped under his arm to support him. Bruce tried to shrug her off, muttering about how he was fine and could take care of himself, but she silently wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him back to the bedroom. He flopped down on the edge of the bed.

“Really, you don't have to...” he called out as she disappeared into the bathroom.

Natasha returned with bandages and an armload of first aid supplies. “It's my fault,” she said softly as she knelt down and propped up Bruce's foot on her lap, coaxing the glass out carefully with tweezers. She poured some peroxide onto a cotton ball and dabbed at the cut, watching the peroxide bubble until she was sure that there wasn't more glass stuck in the cut. Pressing a clean piece of gauze to the cut, she began wrapping bandages around Bruce's foot to secure it.

“Truth is...” she started, as she taped the bandage securely, setting his foot on the ground and straightening up. She gathered the first aid supplies into her arms, standing there awkwardly. “I was sent here on a job, and I didn't know it was your place.”

Bruce nodded slowly, sighing. It wasn't as if being a vigilante paid well. Or at all.

Natasha stood, turning to put away the first aid supplies. She paused, back to him. “I should go. Clean up the glass, cover your window, get far away before boss calls.”

 

“I have ice cream in the freezer, if you want some before you go,” Bruce offered.

Natasha glanced at him, lips pressed together. Then, she smiled and let out a dramatic sigh as she put away the peroxide and unused supplies.

“What kind?” She asked as she returned to the room, one eyebrow quirked suspiciously.

Bruce bit his lip, thinking. “Mint chip, black cherry, french vanilla.” 

Natasha was gone before he’d finished saying vanilla. He could hear her boots thudding down the stairs, and the sound of the freezer opening, followed by bowls and spoons clattering.

“What kind do you want?” She yelled from the kitchen.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep. “Um. I’ll have some of whatever you’re having?”

Natasha scampered back up the stairs with a bowl of the chocolate chunk black cherry ice cream and two spoons. She plopped herself on the bed and scooted up to lean against the pillows, sitting cross-legged with the ice cream in her lap. Bruce couldn’t help smiling, even if he was fighting the urge to say something about her boots getting dirt on the blankets. She must have noticed him looking, because she sighed and handed him the bowl while she pulled off her boots.

Bruce ate a spoonful of the ice cream, crunching on a big chunk of chocolate. Natasha pulled out her phone and turned it off, before stuffing it back in her pocket and holding her hands out for the ice cream. When he gave it back, she rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek, before scarfing down a couple spoonfuls. She sighed happily, sucking every drop off the spoon before digging in for more.

At first, Bruce tried to lean in for another spoonful, but seeing Natasha enjoy herself, he eventually set his spoon to the side, watching her with a fond smile. She was so beautiful, and funny, and smart. And way out of his league. They'd flirted off and on, but there was no way she would be serious about someone like him. She was easily 10 years younger than him, probably more. Yet here she was, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, smiling while they ate ice cream together like there was no difference between them.

“Gonna keep staring like a creep?” She interrupted his thoughts, grinning and licking her spoon clean.

Bruce looked away quickly, causing her laugh.

“I was kidding. You want the last bite?”

Natasha held up the bowl, and Bruce shook his head. His gaze slowly wandered back towards her lips, where her pink tongue flicked out to lick at the last traces of sticky ice cream. She was leaning in closer, nibbling at her lower lip.

“You sure you don't want a taste?”

Before he could respond, her soft lips were pressing to his, and she shifted up on her knees to drape her arms loosely around his shoulders. 

“I...I, uh…” He stuttered out, his brain short-circuiting as her nails ran up and down the back of his neck, and he could taste the chocolate cherry ice cream on her lips. It made him melt and sigh happily, unaware for a few seconds that she had pulled away.

Natasha smiled as she backed away, taking the bowl and spoons with her as she moved off the bed and towards the door, slipping on her boots on the way.

“I’m going to go cover up that broken window for you, and I’ll send someone to fix it, okay? Get some sleep, Bruce.”

Bruce blinked at her, and then obediently laid back with dazed smile as she turned off the light and disappeared out into the hall. “...goodnight, Nat.”


End file.
